Branded
by Ducklie
Summary: Bought out of slavery by the dashing business Tycoon, can the sibling duo survive against Reaver, and what will they do when they find their true purpose? ReaverXoc
1. Chapter 1

Branded

Authors note: This is my first Fable related Fanfiction, so please enjoy and maybe leave a review if you can, it would really help! This is the first chapter of hopefully many to come, so sorry if this specific chapter is a little short. Rated M for later chapters, I don't own anything of Fable, I wish I did though.

Chapter One

Long had the sun set over the horizon of Bowerstone lake, leaving the pale moonlight to bathe in the still waters. Although deep into the night, the air still held a little warmth from the previous summer day, coincidenceding perfectly with the calm breeze that whispered through the trees.

The largest and most luxurious mannor of the few that sat round the lake, was uncharacteristicly quiet. Usually, the residence of the buisness tycoon was bustling with the life of his many wild parties and gatherings. But instead, it lay silent.

In one of the Mannors several studies, Reaver lounged across an armchair, feet resting on the side and head slumped against the velvet cushions. In one hand, he held a glass filled with red wine that sloshed against the crystal as he swirled it around and around. In the other, he held his cane which he lightly tapped the end of his boot with. Trademark fur coat and top hat were gone, replaced with a white, long sleeved shirt that ruffled at the sleeves, and a brown, leather vest.

The only light in the study came from a large, ornate firplace set in the wall opposite the tycoon. The glow of the flames lit up reavers face, only showing the expression of boredum. In the silence, reaver sighed. He felt very tense; very agitated. He couldn't sleep. Within his mind, he knew he would have to make that dreaful trip to Wraithmarsh soon, but the problem was who to take.

Usually, he would sacrifice one of his servants. Small minded things would be ever so willing to travel with the exclusive Reaver, alone to the Shadow Court. Of course, they would know little of their fate, untill the seal had been handed over, and the deed done. A swift bullet between the eyes would keep his secret.

But as of late, the number of his servants dwindled. He found it hard to keep his temper when all of his proposals to the newly crowned King were rejected time and time again. Unfortunatley for the Reaver household, his anger would be unleashed on them, in the form of his legendary Dragonstomper.48.

Of course he could always give one of his loyal followers to the court, but with the inscrease in guards around Albion, Reaver was always being watched thanks to the new Hero ruler. Reaver gripped his cane tighter, halting the rythm of the tapping. Oh how bothersome the new King seemed to fair for him. The people seemed to love him though, what with his mighty defeat of the darkness that threatened the peace. Reaver tutted. In order to keep his stature, he would have to play nice with the Monarch. And so he would, to an extent.

Reaver stood, stretching his legs and pushing any thoughts of the King from his mind. In the morning, he would travel to Bowerstone industrial, more specifically to the underground. There were some bad dealings not even the guards could vanquish, and that came in the form of slavery.


	2. Chapter 2

Branded

Branded  
Authors note: Here's the second chapter already, because the first chapter is too short for my liking. Fable doesn't belong to me, but Adrian and Elise are both mine. My Elsie has nothing to do with the male Hero's partner in the Fable 3 game, I just quite liked the name. Enjoy!

Chapter Two  
The carrige ride to Bowertone was always a rather dreary one, but not even the light rain could sour Reaver's mood. Today was the morning of the slave auction, one of Albions few secret markets left once the new ruling began. Reaver's shadow court sacrifice would be resolved as he was certain he would aquire a cheap victim to offer, and if he was feeling generous, maybe a few other workers to help satisfy he needs.

The ride came to an end as they arrived in the Industrial section of Bowerstone. The legendary Reaver was well know throught the land, but Industrial knew him better than any one. It was here where he owned his many factories that manufactured many items and luxury goods. He knew each cobbled street down to a tee, each alley way and sewer line, every street corner and rundown tavern. Reaver made a profit from everything.

Stepping out of the carrige, and slipping through a small, wooden door set discreetly in the wall down by the river, Reaver came to a series of unerground passegways. Each was lit with a few torches, the flame reflecting off of the puddles of water that had leaked on to the floor. The stone that made up the walls was chipped, and coated in stains from previous brawls and drinking games. Reaver tutted, knowing his pristence white coat would soon be tainted. He countinued on, anyhow, lightly tapping the ground with the end of his cane, the sound echoing slightly through the halls.

Reaver came to another door, this time he stopped, knocking on the wood. He waited a moment, before a small hatch in the door opened, revealing a pair of eyes. They narrowed taking in the man before them, and watching as Reaver smiled.

'Would you be so kind as to let me in?' Reaver leaned on his cane, in a nonchalant way, calmy waiting for a respone. His voice never left the cheery octave he began with. However, the man made no move to unlock the door.

'Name?' The man stated, his voice was whiny, with a common accent. Reaver rolled his eyes.

'Do I really need to give one? Surely, I man like me is well known through these parts...' Reaver felt slightly insulted and began to loose his patients. Still, the man and door stayed put.

'If you ain't giving a name, I ain't letting you in. I don't care who you are...' Reaver rolled his eyes, pulling out his Dragonstomper.48, before landing a bullet in between the mans eyes. He didn't have all day. Noticing the lack of a handle on his side of the door, he kicked it down, before calming walking in.

The room before him was as dimly lit as the halls, but much bigger. The few tables scattered about were lined with beer, and other items one would expect to find in a secret slavers hideout. Daggers, goild coins and such forth. The men lining the benches were all dressed similarly. Discustingly.

Reaver rolled his eyes. How he hated to keep such company, even for a little white. But a neccecary task.

A rather large man trotted over, eyes never leaving the body of his recently fallen comrade. He spoke without taking Reaver in.

'What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?' The man bent down, inspecting the pool of blood swarming aroung their feet. Reaver gave a low chuckle, satisfied with his reaction.

'Arjen, always a pleasure...' Reaver trailed off, scraping the blood off of the underside of his boot. Arjen looked up, meeting the eyes of the Tycoon. His eyes grew wide, realising who he'd just spoken out to. He tried to scramble up, but his stomache was met with the foot of Reaver. Arjen began to tremble, knowing to price of insulting such a figure as Reaver, and his eyes flickered to the dead body next to him. He reached up, quickly wiping his brown before laying out his arms infront of him.

'Now Reaver...Sir...I...I...never ment any disrespect...I swear!' Arjen pleaded, before his head was shoved to the ground by Reaver's cane. Reaver rolled his eyes at the pathetic display of grovelling before him, before releasing his hold.

'I expect next time I grace this hole with my precence, you let me in the door.' Reaver turned, before eyeing the other men, who had all averted their gaze from the scene as quickly as they dared to look. Reaver smirked, ignoring the spluttering behind him.

Arjen stood, shakily, wiping his balding head. 'I will be more careful of informing our new recruits of your generous buisness around here, untill then, what is it that you wish from us?' He placed his hands together, wringing them firmly to ease his nerves.

Reaver pursed his lips, and pondered. He hadn't any specific workers in mind. 'I wish to see everything you have. Don't delay, I've already wasted enough time here. Chop Chop!' Reaver banged his cane on the tiles, and as if on que, all of the men at the tables disapeared behind another door at the opposite end of the room, each returning with a various captive in chains. Like a practised routine, they lined up, in height order, the tallest to the left, ending with the smallest on the right. Not a foot could be seen out of line. 'Ahh, precision. Perfect'.

Starting from the left, Reaver slowly paced the line, stoping briefly at each candidate to take them in, and asses their form. Every slave looked similar in some ways despite age or gender. All wore the same exhausted, hope drained expression on their faces, and their eyes were all the same dead hue. Faces were pale beneath the layers of dirt and god knows what that adorned their skin, and their clothes were a tattered mess of fabric bunched together by pieces of string. All were deathly thin too.

Reaver frowned. They all looked so frail. For his planned sacrifice, this would be a problem as they could easily break before they reached their destination of wraithmarsh. And any extra servants he picked up, they would turn out to be more trouble than their worth. His brow narrowed slightly, before he stopped at a boy.

Facially, he looked around seventeen, or maybe eighteen. He still looked fairly clean shaven, with long, messy hair down to his shoulders. He couldn't tell the colour, he was filthy. Tall for his age, but obviously, he didn't compare to Reaver. However, his shoulders were quite broad, good for lifting, and other deeds. Reaver smirked. He had potential.

The boy looked up, hatred lined his face. 'Your name, boy?' Reaver politley asked, arching an eyebrow. Nothing but silence, and this annoyed Reaver. However, he still kept his calm composure. Arjen looked from the boy to Reaver in a quick, panicked way, before setlling on the boy. Stepping forward, Arjen grabbed the boys hair, harshly grabbing his head to the side.

'Master Reaver asked your name, boy, now I suggest your answer him when you're spoken to!' He roughly let go, and the boy stumbled back, barley managing to compose himself through his shackled feet and hands. Again the boy looked up, facial expression never changing. He kept still, before spitting in Reaver face.

The whole line quietly gasped, and Arjen froze. Reaver, however, slowly wiped his cheek clean, mouth mashing in to a hard line. Advancing forward, he stared at the boy, smiling now, but with a cold hatred in his eyes. Taking his cane, he roughly jabbed the boys stomache, shoving him down. With no hands to prevent the fall, the boy tumbled backwards, head hitting the hard stone, and bruising his back. To the boys credit, he never screamed, he just took a sharp intake of breath. for a second, his expression faltered, but for the most part, showed no sign of giving in. Reaver cocked his head, taking his Dragonstomper.48 from it's holster. He took aim. 'Name.' He asked, one final time. Silence, followed by a pistol click.

'Adrian!' Someone screamed, voice filled with desperation and terror. A girls voice, coming from the very bottom of the line. All heads turned to her; all but Reaver's and the boy's. 'Adrian! That's his name! Adrian!' She shouted again, and out of the corner of Reaver's eye, a guard covered her mouth. He leaned in close, and whispered harshly.

'Shut your mouth when your not spoken too you bitch!' Before landing her a quick slap to the face. She recoiled into the man, before whimpering, and growing silent. The boy's face twitched, and Reaver could see the anger in the boy's eyes. Reaver ceased all hold on the boy, leaving him to scramble up much like Arjen before.

'Adrian is your name?' Reaver spoke in a cheery sing-song voice, as if oblivious to the scene that just took place? He pointed a slender, gloved finger toward the end of the line, before adding 'And i'll take a wager, and guess that's your..oh...' He rested a hand on his face, before pretending to speculate. '..Sister?' He smirked when the boy, Adrian, launched forward, only held back just in time by a couple of the heavily built guards.

Slowly, and deliberatly, Reaver turned, step by step slinking down the end of the line, blatently enjoying the fury on Adrian's face. 'You leave her alone, you bastard!' He spat, still struggling to free himself from the guards grip. Reaver chuckled, reaching the end of the line.

His sister was much smaller than him, at the very end of the display, and very thin in frame too. Her long hair hung limp over her face, and much like her brothers, it was hard to tell the natural colour under all the dirt. Reaver tilted his head, realising she looked around the age of thirteen. 'Oooh, a younger sister at that!' He called down, ignoring the stream of insults and painful grunts that came back. Bending down, he lifted a finger under her chin, raising her head. The first thing he saw were her eyes, a deep brown in colour and filled with tears that matched the streaks running down her face. Her face was soft in regards to her features, bar the dark bruises scattered over her skin. She wore a weary expression, mixed with fear. 'What's your name my dear? Oh, and do be more compliant than your brother over there' He inclined his head down the line.

The girl tensed up, unsure of what to do. She had only given her brothers name out of pure fear for his life. She was confused as to why he had not given it himself in the first place, what was the harm in giving a name? She knew her brother could be defiant, he was known for trying to act the hero, and protect her. But from the look of her brothers unconscious mess on the floor, she decided to give in. 'E...Elise' she croaked, and Reaver smiled. He wiped under her eye with a gloved finger, before she droped her gaze.

'A beautiful name, my dear.' He whispered, just loud enough for her to hear.

Reaver stood, taking in a breath, a look of victory adorned his face. Perhaps in a few years, Elise would become a valuable asset of pleasure to him, but for now he would settle for her to do mediocre tasks, like cleaning. Her brother, on the other hand, would be more trouble. For a second, he hovered on the decision of sacrificing him to the courts, but soon passed off of that. He had too much youth and promise of hard chores to give him up, pluss, Reaver would relish in the task of breaking his spirit. With her brother around, Elise would be more willing to comply.

Decision made, Reaver adressed Arjen, throwing him a large bag of gold from inside his coat pocket. 'I'll take the brother and sister' he stated, as he lazily watched Arjen fumble, and try to catch the bag, greed flashing in his eyes.

'Done deal Sir, very well chosen!' Arjen murmured, more focused on rumaging through the bag. Reaver inclined for a few guards to lead Elise outside, and drag a still unconscious Adrian along side her. Reaver looked at the line again, eyes laying on a middle aged man, who looked capable enough of walking without collapsing. He almost forgot of his original task in Bowerstone, and settled on him being an able sacrifice.

'The gold should cover him too' he spoke as he pointed a finger, before watching him be escorted with the others. 'Do load them in carefully, not too much filth on my seats, rather expensive...' Reaver ordered, hand hovering over his pistol holster as a warning. 'With descresion from the law, chop chop!' He claped his hands, and the group hurried.

With a grand flourish of his coat, reaver diapeared down the hall, with a victorious stride. Oh how the fun would soon begin.


	3. Chapter 3

Branded

Authors note: I am exceptionally sorry for those who read the first couple of chapters in which I didn't edit very well, because you probably found a billion mistakes. All correct now, hopefully! All characters belong to me, except Reaver. He's all Fable's. Enjoy the third chapter!

Chapter Three

Once the carriage was loaded, the ride back to Bowerstone lake began. The rain had ceased, never managing to build up to more than a drizzle, and the clear skies allowed the sun to shine through just a little. The world outside fell silent, mirroring the inside of the carriage to an uneasy level.

On one side, sat Reaver who was still smiling at his newley bought property, bathed in sunlight as he took in his victory. He sat perfectly primmed and proper, in spotlessly clean attire despite his recent surroundings. Not a hair was out of place on the dashingly good looking tycoons head, which was a far cry from what sat opposite him.

To the left of Reaver on the seats set facing him, slumped the older man, passed out against the side of the window, in blissfull peace unaware of his fate. God knows how long the fellow had experienced this much sleep, so Reaver left him to dirty the side, being as he was in such a generous mood. On the far, right side of the seat, sat a similar sight, Adrian this time, still unconscious from his earlier actions. He had been carelessly thrown on to the seat, causing his legs to curl up in to an uncomfortable position. His face was too scrunched up, like he was frowning or angry at something in his sleep. _Probably myself_, Reaver though, and gave an unexpected chuckle, that suddenly broke the silece.

Elise jumped slightly, and for a second she stopped stroking the hair on her brothers head which was nestled in her lap. She looked so tiny inbetween the two men, but in mind, she looked the oldest of them all. Her face no longer showed any sign of fear, only complete care for Adrian, and determination to see the trip through. Slowly, Elise looked up, meeting Reaver's gaze and held it for a second in, before returning to her brother. That's where he eyes stayed for the remainder of the journey.

Some time later, the carriage neared the trees that bordered the entrance to Bowerstone Lake. The sun hung low in the Sky, painting the leaves and the water in a golden hue. By this time, Adrian had awoken from his state, refusing to speak to even Elise. Instead, he resulted to throwing quick, scowling glances at Reaver, inbetween staring at his hands. Elise had turned away from him, obviously a little upset at his silence. Not that they could share much in the company of Reaver anyway. She resulted to looking out of the window, past the sleeping man, whose name she faintly remembered to be Joseph.

Although she had to put on a slightly defiant act for the sake of her brothers aliance, she secretly liked her new situation. As it stood at the moment, she was safe away from the slavers, who were no strangers to giving abuse and pain. That would be enough on it's own, without adding that she'd never been further than the borderlines of Bowerstone Industrial. She'd always dreamed of seeing more of Albion, no matter how little it was. Inside she was greatful. She didn't know what would wait for her in her masters new home.

A moment later, Reaver clapped his hands together, the loud sound jolting Joseph awake. He spluttered for a moment, before remembering the situation, and the noise died down. 'Now now my good fellows, we have arrived at mon château, and not a moment too soon!' The carriage turned in on the largest mannor, and all three eyes widened. The door opened, and Reaver was the first to step out, followed hesitantly by the others.

Double doors to the house swung open, either side stood two women. Although clearly servants, both were incredibly clean and well presented, alongside being extremley beautiful. Their clothes consisted of a ruffled white dress, cut just above the knee, and on top, a brown, leather type vest, much like Reaver's own dress style underneath his long coat. _Typical, _Elise though. She could of pegged Reaver to be the vein man who would dress his workers in scantily clad versions of his own fashion.

'Good afternoon Master Reaver!' The girls chorused cheerily, in a practised form. Reaver held out his arms embracingly, a smile plastered on his face.

'Ladies' he replied happily, walking forward. The brunette of the two skipped forward to collect his cane and top hat he routinley held out. 'Ah, thank you mon cher' he replied to her gesture, before adressing the blonde. 'Christine, would you be so kind as to fetch Laurent for me my lovley? Make it hastey, we have new workers that need attending too!' Christine nodded, before hastily walking in the the mannor. The brunette gave the three a reassuring smile, before accompanying Reaver inside.

Elise exchanged a glance with her brother, before Reaver called after them to follow him in. Joseph went first, followed by Adrian who unconsciously pushed Elise behind him, just like he'd done so many times before back in Bowerstone.

The entrance hall to the mannor was grand, decorated lushly with expensive furniture. Around the room, and down other halls, Elise spotted several of the other workers, all dressed the same, bar the men, whose uniform appeared to be similar the the womens, but replaced with black trousers rather than the low cut dress. However, male or female, each and every worker was exceedinly beautiful, which just showed Reaver's taste.

At the top of a flight of stairs leading to the second floor, appeared a man, who was tall in stature, and fairly thin. Black hair was swept back, in to a perfect, short ponytail, tied with a lavish silk ribbon. Although he was dressed the same as the other servants, for some reason, he gave of an air of authouriety. His face was sharp, with green piercing eyes. He reached the bottom step, and turned to Reaver, giving him a small, respectful nod.

'Master Reaver' he adressed the three along side his superiour, his voice deep with a french, flowing accent that sounded like music.

Reaver wasted no time with pleasentries, and immedietly explained the situation. 'Ah Laurent, these lovley workers right here are to be taken to the baths, and washed to an impecable standard. I want no smudge of dirt left on their heads, do you understand me? Call on Christine, or a few of the others if need be, but I want them dressed and fed well too.' With that Laurent nodded, motioning for Joseph, Adrian and Elise to follow him up the stairs.

The three trudged up, each observing the fine furnishings and tappestries that adorned the walls, before dissapearing down another hallway, but not before hearing a series of giggling, followed by Reaver laughing.

Down the hall they followed, listening as Laurent called on a few others to help him. Jessica, the quiet brunette from earlier who looked in her early twenties or so, and two other males, both alike in build; tall, and broad shouldered. However, one, whose name she remembered as being Nareeme, had skin as dark as night, with warm, exotic eyes. He noticed Elise staring, and gave a small grin, before nodding, and turning away.

The group stopped infront of a closed door, and Laurent turned to Elise. 'Here you shall bathe with the aid of Jessica.' Both women nodded before he continued. 'Men follow me down the hall to the other wash rooms.' Jessica gently ushered Elise through the door, and before she disapeared through, she caught a glimpse of the other man, Gareth, ruffle Adrian on the head.

'Come on pretty boy!' Gareth joked, before laughing in a friendly way and turning a corner. Jessica closed the door.

The room Elise found herself in was magnificent. White marble floor covered the room, matching the equally white walls. What little sunlight still remained outside poured in through the wide, clear windows, and bathed the tiles in a warm glow

Jessica stepped forward to an enormous, round bath tub set in the center of the room, and turned a tap. Hot, steaming water began to put out, and Elise gasped. The rare times the slavers let her wash had been through a bucked of ice cold water, that had already been used by the other captives. She had never before experienced this. Jessica wandered over, giving her a warming smile. She reached out, and slowly began to untie Elise's rags, fiddling with the string. She could sense Elise's discomfort, and tried to make conversation. 'My names Jessica, what's yours?'

Elise stayed quiet, and shuffled her feet, before frowning at the dirt marks she'd left across the tiles. She froze, knowing she'd probably be punished for defiling such a beautiful floor. Noticing the shock on her face, Jessica looked down before taking Elise's hands. 'It's okay sweetheart, that's not your fault, you can hardly help it. That's why you're here, to get all clean.' Jessica gave a smile, and Elise relaxed. She stepped out of her rags, which Jessica busily folded, before turning off the taps, and testing the water.

Elise stood, covering her body with her arms, more out of coldness than anything else. She was comfortable with nakedness, specially as she'd spent most of her life with other people in slave cells.

As the bath sit cooling, Jessica led her over to the corner of the room, with a small drain and a metal head fastened to the wall. Elise was hesitant, before Jessica flicked a switch, and cool jets of water sprouted from the head. 'It's just to wash as much dirt off as I can, so it doesn't sit in the bath' She explained, and Elise emersed herself under.

Although the water was cold, the clean water felt good on her skin, and she stepped out dripping wet, feeling a little more refreshed.

Elise sighed slightly. As much as she'd planned on just sticking with her brother, and maybe Joseph, Jessica seemed like a nice enough woman, and it wouldn't hurt to make a few friends round here. She didn't doubt she would be here for a very long time.

'Elise' she confessed, before stepping forward, and taking Jessica's hand.

Jessica helped her in to the tub, and smiled as she relaxed in the water. 'Your name?' She asked, and Elise nodded. 'It's pretty' Jessica complimented, as she went about the room, collecting several bottles of liquid. As she did this, Elise sliped under the water, holding her breath. For a moment, everything seemed at peace before she sat back up, content.

Gently, Jessica began lathering on the varied soaps, and a while later, Elise was clean. She was wrapped in a towel, and dried, before clothed in a workers uniform. Jessica took a pair of scissors from a nearby cabinet, and began to snip away little bits of hair.

Elise arched an eyebrow, which Jessica saw in the mirror infront of them. She chuckled, before speaking. 'Reaver likes perfection' she whispered quietly, before rolling her eyes. 'I won't take too much, I promise. I couldn't bring myself to do it, it's so long!' She complimented. It was true, her hair hung in dark brown waves, just below her waist. Her small height made it seem so more longer too.

When Jessica was finished she spun Elise around. She pursed her lips, squinting her eyes. 'Just one thing more...' She trailed off, pulling a white coloured ribbon from her own hair, letting it fall just past her shoulders. She tied it in Elise's hair, like a band, that pushed back her fringe. 'Perfect! And it matches your dress' She gave a wink, before turning her to face the mirror.

Elise looked astonished, before touching her own cheek. Never before had she felt so clean and comfortable in her life. She smiled, before choking out a 'Thank you'. Jessica bent down, and gave her a light kiss on the cheek.

'It's no problem sweetheart, now. lets get you fed.' Elise nodded, following Jessica to the door, when she stoped, and turned around. She looked a little uncomfortable, like she wanted to say something, but was afraid of the consequences. 'Look, hunny, Reaver is a very dificult man to work for.' She'd bent down again, eye level with Elise, her voice a whisper. 'You haven't asked a lot of questions, which is good. There's no need yet, just play along for him. Just do as he says, and it should be okay. For god's sake, don't speak out, okay?' Elise made to question her, but she hushed her. 'Please? Promise me?'

Elise slowly nodded, as Jessica straightened up. 'Good! Now let's go eat.' She smiled, and opened the door. Jessica changed so quickly on the topic of Reaver, god knows what he did here.


End file.
